The Council of Witchenly
by She Who Walks Behind
Summary: Or "one reason Wizarmon went traveling" Poor Wizarmon has to put up with... DEMOCRACY!
1. Chapter 1

Don't Own Digimon.

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The Council of Witchenly

_"We piddle twiddle and resolve, Not one damn thing do we solve." - 1776, Broadway Play_

"I say that this council should stand and fight for its human comrades, you insolent fool!" shouted a short red-robed Mon, known as FlaWizarmon, in a crackling voice, brandishing his wand at a figure across the room. Upon his head he wore a tall multi pointed hat that seemed to resemble a fire and his wand was formed in the likeness of an oversized match. His red eyes shone with rage and his stitched mouth was twisted in a deep frown.

"If you think that we _must_ support human Digimon just because we ourselves are, you are simply a moron." countered the opposing figure with a smooth and calming voice. Her attire was what could be considered a classic witch gown, which had given her a well earned name, Witchmon. Her own pointed hat was belted by a small cat charm and her red garb seemed strangely discouraging. She darned a black high-collared cape with a strange Eye amulet (rumored to have been stolen from a Phantomon) clasping the cape's collar. In place of a wand or staff, she instead wielded a broomstick.

The two were not the only ones in the room, but it seemed as though they were.

A tall figure, also robed, was levitating a few feet off the ground, standing as firmly on air as one would on a large rock. At a first glance, one could associate him with an Abscond Brigand. At a second glance, if the onlooker received one, they would know their mistake. It was true enough that he wore an ancient brown robe and had his face hidden with a tan hood, but his glowing yellow eyes would strike his name into your mind and fear into your heart. Wisemon.

Sitting at a table, two short and identically garbed wizards (save for the color of their suites and the skull buckle resting on the darker one's hat) were staring at each other, not thinking of the debate that would soon be called.

The darker wizard, Wizarmon, was wearing a signature dark blue steeple hat, which covered a mess of blond hair that was tied back into a loose ponytail, with a Skull buckled on a black band around the steeple. His tanned leather suit that didn't quite match his boots had many a tarnished silver-zippered pocket, one with glowing red slanted stones set right above a lopsided zipper, giving an onlooker the impression that his right leg was always scowling at them. His dark cloak, which was slightly weathered, had the top collar covering the lower half of his face, had a Skull brooch clasping the lower lapel, and had a strange array of symbols embroidered in white to the interior. In his gloved hand, he held a crooked Blackwood staff with a cracked golden sun-shaped egg atop. The staff was glowing slightly as his green eyes stared deep into his opposition's cold blue.

The lighter wizard, Sorcerymon, was wearing basically the same. His leather suit was pure white, the stones above his gleaming silver zipper were blue, and his staff was a clear ice shaft with a gleaming ice crystal atop.

The two wizards were having a staring contest.

Now, a wizard's staring contest is a strange thing. To look into a wizard's eye can be a dangerous move. To do so is the same as the duration of war as you leave your mind an open book to the wizard. Since wizards live longer and generally know more about more than most, doing this is generally not a good idea.

One can only imagine what was occurring between the two.

"We don't have it _nearly_ as hard as the beast Digimon do." Witchmon was arguing. "They have been poorly treated and are commonly used as cheap labor in these parts."

"And that is what has been keeping them in control all these years." FlaWizarmon scoffed. "If we don't take control over them, _we_ could end up their slaves."

Sorcerymon blinked, losing the match.

"I win." Wizarmon said in a sagely voice. He tapped the table expectantly.

Sorcerymon grumbled, pulling out a slip of white paper scrawled with black symbols from the folds of his cloak. "_Ice Illusion._ I made this specifically so that you can multiply it when necessary."

Wizarmon nodded and pulled a black slip of paper with white symbols from his left glove. "This one's _Magical Game._ I made this so that if anyone apart from you or I try to use it, it will burst into flames."

The two nodded in acknowledgement and exchanged the spells. Sorcerymon stuffed his into his cloak and Wizarmon folded his, raised it just above his head and murmured "Hold on to this."

The Skull buckle vibrated and the paper promptly vanished.

These spell scrolls were useful tools to the wizards. For one thing, no one expected them to be able cast spells that were not theirs, henceforth giving them the element of surprise. There were, of course, downsides. These spell scrolls were a pain to make. Hours of concentration, certain herbs at times, and one false movement could make whatever building they were in go down in flames.

Wizarmon turned his head to Wisemon. "They still at it?"

Wisemon inclined his head in a slow nod. He rarely, in reality, spoke

Wizarmon rolled his eyes. FlaWizarmon and Witchmon were fighting to get the council involved in a war. They only had different opinions as to which side to join. It was Wizarmon's own opinion that the war was pointless, especially due to the fact that most Digimon changed from human to beast or vise versa every other evolution. He hoped MedievalDukemon would get here soon. FlaWizarmon and Witchmon looked like they were about to get violent.

As if answering his unspoken wish a deep voice echoed through the room.

"The Council is now in session."

The wizards (And witch) glanced around the room. MedievalDukemon was nowhere to be seen. He usually only appeared when the proposals to the council were worth the trip.

Uh Oh...

"The first proposal on our agenda," MedievalDukemon's voice continued. "Has been sent to us by the Candmon _Ard Rí._Wizarmon, seeing as they are, or were, your kin, you shall be the one to enforce the outcome of this decision. The proposal is to whether or not to make all Candmon wear matching uniforms."

The council, including Wisemon, groaned loudly.

* * *

With problems like this, it any wonder Wizarmon went roaming?

I may or may not turn this into a story...


	2. Chapter 2

-Insert Disclaimer Here-

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"No! Absolutely not!" Wizarmon cried, distressed.

"The matter is no longer up for debate, magling," rasped the throaty growl of Wisemon. "The Council has left thee the charge to present the resolves of the Council to the Court of Wicca. Thou art to depart at dawn."

Wizarmon glared at the yellow eyes of the robed Magus, turning his gaze only when he felt the beginning of The Stare. The last thing he wanted was to have the contest with one who had at least six-hundred years of seniority. "I would like to request a companion from the Council before I leave. Those madmen are likely to ignore me if only I go."

Wisemon gave a stiff nod in understanding. "Leave mine name off of your list, child. I myself must make haste to present the findings to Mystimon."

Wizarmon felt it coming before seeing it with his own eyes. Energy swirled around the wizards, drawing close to Wisemon. Bright green sparks rose from the ground and began dancing around the Elder Mage, growing faster and faster. Wisemon stood unblinking as the sparks began driving slowly back into the earth like a hellish drain taking the tall mage along with them. Soon, Wisemon had vanished entirely.

Wizarmon watched as the last few sparks sank into the ground before muttering "Show-off."

--

Sorcerymon winced as a Trailmon pulled up.

"Tell me again why I'm coming?" he asked his docile companion.

"Because," Wizarmon stated. "If you accompany me to the Court, they are more likely to act sane. They like to please guests. Most of the time, anyway."

Steam hissed as the Trailmon's doors pulled open. Sorcerymon grimaced as the Data Mage pushed him in.

"I'll meet you there. I've got several stops to make first."

The doors began to close.

--

Wicca Court was a rather small structure. At a first glance, one could easily label it as a log cabin and file it neatly away into a drawer. Upon entering, however, they would be surprised. Wicca Court had been built and maintained, to this day, by the eldest of the art of magic. The resulting effect of the most brilliant minds Witchenly had to offer was a result that is known as "Space Folding". The basic theory is that by manipulating Area so that greater Mass could be avoided as Area gained Volume, a "Fold" would occur. Put simply, it's bigger on the inside.

If one would enter, they could find a marble foyer that led to three sets of stairs. One of the three stairs leading down to the basement and kitchens, another leading up to living quarters and libraries, and the last gold lined stair leading to the Court itself. I shall leave you to imagine the great size yourselves.

Sorcerymon waited impatiently for his wizard cohort. Nearly an hour had passed since he had departed from the Trailmon.

"Wouldn't it be better to go inside?" Wizarmon whispered in his ear.

Socerymon jumped. "What took you so long?"

The wizard shrugged. "There was a long line at Digi-King."

"You went to a fast food restaurant?! Why?"

Wizarmon gave him a hidden frown. "You'll see." And with that, he grabbed the tip of Sorcerymon's icy staff, and dragged him into the building. He gave the white wizard only a few moments to gawk at the interior splendor before continuing to the courtroom.

The courtroom was a large room lined with green-marble and a long steeple built of Red Digizoid. Far above, in the spacious rafters, grew several mushrooms that emitted a bright greenish light that gave the room a rather gloomy atmosphere.

Save for a broom that was sweeping the floor and the two incoming wizards, the room was empty.

Sorcerymon grumbled sarcastically "Looks like we missed it. Such a pity."

Wizarmon frowned. "What time is it?"

"Nine-thirty. Court starts at eight…"

The dark mage smiled. "No. they should be wandering in soon."

"But-"

The room was suddenly filled with a thunderous screech, causing the two to cover their ears.

"WOOOOOOHOOOOOO! I'M RUNNING! I'MMM RUUUUNNING! WOOOOOOOOOOOO!" there was a thud as something hit the doors. "I'M NAKED!!!!!!" and the great oaken doors flew open with a bang and a leather jumpsuit with a dark cloak flung into the room soon to be followed by a floating weathered hat with a green-eyed Skull buckling the black belt around the steeple. The hat turned so that the skull faced the waiting magi and a voice from somewhere underneath declared "HI! YOU GET MY TAQUITOS YET?"

Wizarmon reached into his cloak and withdrew a greasy Digi-King bag and tossed it towards the hat. The voice under the hat squealed and there was a bright flash as smoke billowed downward from the brim.

Another Wizarmon now appeared, hunched forward and gulping down the contents of the bag. The broom seemed to edge away from the trio, effectively avoiding them.

"One down." Our Wizarmon murmured. "Eight to go."

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Short and soon (hopefully) to be continued. Also hope that I manage the next one better... Cuz my discriptive writing is horrid.


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